12. The Phantom
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE PHANTOM
Layla
Taking a deep breath, I stare at my reflection in the floor-length mirror. I’d rented the dress for the night—the actual cost of it was three times my mortgage—and I could tell the dress was exquisite from the way the fabric hugged my body, clinging in all the right places. Stella, Mile’s wife, had helped me pick it out last week.
The shoulder held its shape perfectly on one side, while the bodice offered full support and a slight stretch for comfort. The dress is a floor-length black gown with an A-line silhouette, featuring a high slit along my right thigh. One half is sleeveless, while the other drapes elegantly over my shoulder, the black material clinging to my arm down to my wrist.
It’s classic and modest on the sleeved side but shows off a lot of my chest and collarbone on the other side.
I’d paired it with clear pumps that had flowers embedded into the synthetic material. They’re gorgeous, but they’re not the most comfortable—still, I hardly ever get dressed up outside of performances, so I liked having an excuse to wear them.
Besides, my feet knew how to take a beating.
I’d pulled my hair back into a low ponytail and kept my makeup and jewelry minimal, aside from some cream blush, mascara, and nude lipstick.
And of course, Starboy’s bracelet.
It wasn’t a requirement to dress up, but the four of us agreed it would be fun, and since we were going for Zoe’s birthday next week, we used it as an excuse to get gussied up.
When I emerge from the bedroom, Sparrow looks at me warily from his position on one of his many cat beds around the house.
“I know, I know. I hardly ever go out.”
He lets out a soft meow.
“I won’t be back too late, okay?”
I’d fed him earlier and set the air-conditioning to keep him cool. We’re supposed to have a heatwave tomorrow, and I can feel the warmth emanating from the front door. It’s not unusual to get heat waves in April here, but the temperatures are still supposed to be record-breaking tomorrow. As a native Los Angelean, I know all too well how important it is to cool the house beforehand.
Sparrow stretches on his bed, yawning. I grab my sparkly clutch purse and check my phone. We’ll be going to Hollywood for the show, and since I’m on the way to Hollywood from Crestwood, they offered to pick me up. My phone chimes with a text from Zoe letting me know she’s outside.
“Okay, be good,” I tell Sparrow, blowing him a kiss.
I open my door, and the warmth hits me all at once. It’s dry and windy out, and as I close and lock my door, Liam’s Jeep Wrangler sits idling by the curb—and Orion is walking around to hold the back door open for me.
Didn’t realize he’d be hitching a ride, too.
The instant he turns around, his hand stills on the door handle as his eyes sweep over my dress. His gaze lingers on the slit, and I smile as I walk closer. When he looks back up at me and manages to open the back door, there’s a spark of admiration and a hint of vulnerability in his expression. His mouth parts slightly as if he’s about to speak but is momentarily lost for words before a slow, genuine smile spreads across his face, softening his features.
My heart skips a beat.
He looks good— really good.
His suit is a deep midnight blue. It has a subtle sheen that catches the light of the setting sun. The jacket is open and perfectly tailored, hugging his broad shoulders and tapering down to a narrow waist, with slim lapels edged in black satin. The trousers are slim-fit, with a slight break at the ankle to reveal polished black leather oxfords. Underneath, he’s wearing a crisp white dress shirt.
Instead of a traditional tie, the collar of his shirt is unbuttoned. His pocket square is a dark, intricate paisley pattern, matching the jacket’s lining. Finishing the look is a custom waistcoat in a textured black fabric with subtle embroidery.
My stomach flips over as I walk up to him. There’s a mix of awe and warmth in his expression, his gaze lingering on my lips for a second too long.
“Hi,” he says, gesturing for me to climb in.
“Hi,” I say breathlessly. He holds his hand out for me, and I take it—electricity zapping up my arm as I climb into the back seat.
Once he closes the door, I momentarily forget that Zoe and Liam are in the front seats.
“Oh my God,” she says, eyes widening. “You are so smitten?—”
The other back door opens, and she makes the lips-sealed motion before she turns to Liam, her husband.
His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, and he winks once as if to say, your secret is safe with me.
My face flushes as Orion climbs into the other back seat, and I keep my eyes ahead as I buckle myself in.
“You’re a smokeshow, Lay. Isn’t she a smokeshow, Orion?” Zoe asks, stirring the pot as always.
I don’t look over at him, but I hear him mumble something in agreement before he turns away and faces out his window.
Zoe and Liam look great, too—Zoe in a strappy, bright red silk dress, and Liam in a black three-piece suit.
We all make small talk, and Zoe talks about the book she just finished up. She writes fantasy books, and her second book is releasing in a couple of months. I can’t wait to read it—she’s very talented. As one of her best friends, I get early reader priority.
I see Liam pull her hand to his mouth, kissing it once. He looks at her with pure adoration, and I have to look away because it feels like I’m witnessing a very private moment.
“How’s intensive going?” Orion asks me.
I shrug. I’d done a two-hour intensive earlier today, and Orion’s question reminds me that Bradleigh hadn’t been present at the classes all week, nor had she called in sick, which was the first in over three years. I’d spent the majority of the class gnawing my nails down with worry and was waiting for an email back from her mom, but she hadn’t responded.
“Good.”
“They’re lucky to have you,” he says, eyes boring into mine. “I still remember taking you to yours. Remember? I’d just gotten my license, and I then spent most of my free time driving you around to various classes all over the city.”
I laugh. “I remember, and I’m grateful for you.”
His expression softens. He reaches for the black box between us—something I hadn’t noticed until just now.
“Belated birthday present,” he tells me, handing the box to me. “Don’t open it until later, okay?”
My mouth opens and closes. “My birthday was in December.”
He smiles, but he doesn’t look at me. “That’s why I said it was belated,” he says playfully.
“My birthday is next week, and this is literally my birthday celebration, but okay,” Zoe chides from the front seat as she crosses her arms.
I laugh, but there’s a tightness in my throat, a mix of surprise and emotion making it hard to speak. The warmth of his thoughtfulness is almost too much to bear, and even though I don’t know what it is, a small part of me is grateful that we’ve gone from hating each other to exchanging gifts.
“Yeah, yeah. You already know what I got you,” Orion teases.
“What’d he get you?” I ask her.
“A weekend of watching Captain so we can go on a little getaway,” Zoe says glumly. “And while it’s very thoughtful, I’m not sure Captain is ever going to willingly go back to your apartment with that demon spawn of a bird who terrorizes him.”
We all laugh, and my fingers trace the silky ribbon of the box. I need to know where people are getting these fancy gift boxes because it reminds me of the one Starboy got for me.
“Thank you,” I tell Orion earnestly.
The rest of the drive into Hollywood is relatively quiet, and by the time we get to the Pantages, it’s fifteen minutes until showtime. We park in one of the premium spots that I’m sure Liam reserved. As we enter the packed theater, we’re giggling and drawing attention to ourselves because we’re all overdressed.
We’re ushered to our private box, where we’re lavished with hors d’oeuvres and champagne. Orion asks for sparkling water, and I have one too many glasses in the seven minutes we have to drink before the show starts. I’m giddy and buzzing with excitement, and once the lights go out, I do a little dance.
It doesn’t even matter that I’m seated next to Orion.
He just smiles and looks ahead, his hand resting on our shared armrest.
The music by Andrew Lloyd Webber begins, and I’m grinning. I can never get enough of the mysterious Phantom, a musical genius who lives beneath the Paris Opera House, and his obsession with Christine Daaé, a young and talented soprano.
One day, I’ll see the show in Paris.
I watch as the musical moves through the parts I have memorized. The eerie, haunting music gives me goose bumps, and when I look over at Orion, he’s watching me.
“What?” I whisper, suddenly embarrassed for having such visceral reactions to the show.
He shakes his head and smiles before looking away.
I watch as “ Music of the Night ” plays, revealing the Phantom’s inner torment. My heart wrenches at his longing for connection. The next part of the play has me anticipating what comes next as the Phantom’s presence looms over the festivities. And then my favorite scene—the one where Christine unmasks the Phantom—starts. I lean forward in my seat, resting my arms on the railing as my eyes water.
“You okay?” Orion’s hand comes to the small of my back, and I turn to face him.
“She’s horrified it’s him. You can see it in her face. I never understood that. They shared such a connection,” I whisper passionately. “It’s a vulnerable moment for him, and she acts revolted by him.”
Orion’s face, while masked in darkness, tenses slightly. A crease forms between his brows, and his eyes dip to my lips before looking forward. I follow his gaze to the stage.
“Loving her so deeply, and knowing she can’t look at him without fear… I guess it’s hard to hide your feelings when they’re that strong,” he whispers. “I can understand that.” His tone conveys a hint of something personal like he’s revealing more than just his thoughts on the Phantom.
When I look back at Orion, he’s watching the stage intently.
I want to ask him if he’s referring to the woman he’s dating, but instead, he looks at me and holds a finger up to his lips.
“Watch. I know you want to.”
The rest of the play goes by quickly. I cry during “ All I Ask of You ,” naturally, and I swear I see Orion avert his gaze whenever I turn to face him.
And of course, the end has me nearly sobbing. It’s his final farewell, the antithesis of a happy ending.
“What the hell was that?” Zoe asks, eyes shimmering with unshed tears as the lights come back on after the curtain call.
I swipe my cheeks. “I know.”
She shakes her head. “I’m so going to write some angry fan fiction where Christine and the Phantom get a happy ending between projects.”
I laugh.
We’re all quiet and introspective as we walk back to the car.
Stopping for burgers before we drive home, we all talk about the other brothers—namely Miles and Stella, and their adorable daughter, Beatrix. I laugh when Zoe spills her soda down the front of her dress, and my chest aches every time she touches Liam tenderly. Orion and I joke like old times, and every so often, I catch him looking at me.
Just as we pull off the freeway to get to my house, I let myself imagine this life. Just for a second. A double date to see a show, a casual dinner, a brooding Liam and a playful Orion who couldn’t stop looking at me…
What if?
Is that even something he would want now that he’s seeing someone? It could be kind of great—a mix of familiarity with a dash of intrigue and hot sex. I mean, I assume it would be hot—with the kinds of things he’s into, at least, and how just kissing him left me aching for more.
As we pull up to my house, I lean forward and hug Zoe before kissing Liam on the cheek.
“Thanks for being the designated driver, old guy,” I tease.
“Get out of here,” he jokes, but his smile is all warmth.
“I’ll walk you to your door,” Orion offers.
He comes around to the side of my car and opens the door. I grab the giftbox and my purse, and we walk up to my door together.
The night air is warm and dry as the wind swirls around us. The street is quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of the 5 freeway. He walks beside me, his stride matching mine, every step measured, almost deliberate. I can feel the tension between us, thick like the shadows stretching across the pavement.
As we approach my door, his presence feels larger somehow, like he’s holding something back, something he’s not saying. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye—his jaw is set, his eyes fixed straight ahead, but there’s a tightness there, a weight that pulls my attention.
We reach the steps, and he hesitates, just for a fraction of a second, but enough for me to notice. He’s close now, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from him and hear the steady staccato of his breathing. My heart rate spikes. His eyes finally meet mine, and there’s something there, something deep and intense that sends a shiver down my spine.
He opens his mouth as if to say something, but the words don’t come. Instead, he just watches me, his gaze searching mine like he’s looking for something. The air between us feels charged, heavy with everything he’s not saying. And at that moment, I realize there’s something here I hadn’t noticed before, or at least something I tried so hard to push away.
Something simmering beneath the surface.
His hand hovers near mine as though he’s debating whether to reach out, to close the space between us.
Do it.
Don’t do it.
Do it.
I take a step back, almost instinctively, and his eyes flicker with something—disappointment, maybe, or regret. But he doesn’t push. He just gives me a small, tight-lipped smile.
“Good night,” he says, his voice low, almost hushed, like it’s taking everything in him to let me go.
“Good night,” I whisper.
As I turn to unlock the door, I can feel his eyes on me, the weight of his presence lingering long after I’ve stepped inside. The door clicks shut, and I lean against it, my heart racing, replaying every moment, every look, every unspoken word. Setting the black box down on the small table near the door, I kick my shoes off and take a deep breath.
It feels like I’ve just missed something, and that thought leaves me breathless.